The Spaces In Between
by janetenvy
Summary: Based on Star Wars: The Old Republic MMORPG. Xhareen, a Miralukan Sith warrior, navigates the path from obscurity to the heights of power as she also learns to lead and to love. An interpretation of the canon Sith Warrior story from Corellia to Ziost, with flashbacks.
1. It Begins With Betrayal

**The Spaces In Between**

by stellacadente

Summary

Based on Star Wars: The Old Republic MMORPG. Xhareen, a Miralukan Sith warrior, navigates the path from obscurity to the heights of power as she also learns to lead and to love. An interpretation of the canon Sith Warrior story from Corellia to Ziost, with flashbacks.

 **It Begins With a Betrayal**

 _On board the Class A Starship Yaroe Star_

Ruin. Everything lay in ruin.

Xhareen Nah-garesh watched as the body of her captain floated in the kolto tank. The medtech, an enlisted woman with a Ziost accent, worked to seal the tank and get the regeneration process started. Her apparent skill came as a relief, since the ship didn't have a doctor on board.

"We're just a transport vessel, m'lord," she said. "Hard to keep real docs around at this pay."

Xhareen knew she had to do something but she wasn't sure what. They were still nearly a day from Corellia at this ship's speed, but she still needed to come up with something fast.

"Malavai," she whispered. _You promised me we would share our legacy. But this is what you gave me instead._

"One of your own works to betray you." That's what Madaga-Ru told her as they left Voss. She never even considered he meant Quinn or anyone on her crew. She thought "your own" meant another Sith. Certainly Baras, but he was already working on that. Voss supposedly only had visions of the future.

Darth Malgus, perhaps? He'd been eager to have her do off-the-books assignments for him while she was in hiding. Maybe he needed to close those books now. Darth Serevin? Even more likely. He'd been cagey and strange the whole time on Voss. He'd speak ill of the Voss as dirty aliens in one moment, but she was certain she'd caught him kissing one of them when he thought no one was looking.

But not anyone in her crew, and certainly not her captain. Her lover, her confidante, her husband. The man who promised her a family.

She forced herself to sit up straight, emotionless, like she owned this vessel. She didn't want anyone to know the depths of her shame. She'd already spent an hour negotiating with the captain, practically begging, promising to pay for repairs for the damage done to his ship and to owe him a favor. He finally relented when she showed him a credstik from one of the Hutt's largest private banks. He accepted with a relieved smile.

All she wanted to do after that was make sure Quinn was still alive. So she came here to haunt the ship's doctor, only to find the lone medtech instead.

After a few minutes, the sensors on the tank flashed green. Quinn was masked and leads ran all over his body. The medtech sighed. She, too, knew the risks of angering a Sith.

Just when Xhareen thought the hypnotic movements of Quinn's nearly naked body bobbing up and down would drive her mad with rage, she got an idea.

"Corporal, I charge you with keeping this man alive or risk my displeasure. I'm going to the bridge. Call me immediately if anything changes."

"Yes, m'lord," she said, and turned back to the machine.

A plan was forming. Not a new one. She had been working for months to find someone, and he would certainly know how to save Quinn. If for no other reason, keep him alive long enough to answer the only question she needed to ask. Maybe she'd kill him after, if she didn't like the answer. It had seemed like that was what he wanted, anyway, after all those things he'd said. He seemed as surprised as she was that she simply could not do it.

His angry taunts still rang in her ears. Insulting the Emperor, exalting Baras. Calling her weak.

She looked back one last time at the tank before exiting the room.

 _Malavai Quinn, you will answer for what you have done. For what you have done to me._


	2. They Meet

**Balmorra, eleven months earlier …**

Vette wrinkled her nose the second she and Xhareen exited the Balmorra spaceport.

"Eww, you ever been to Ylesia Prime?"

"Is that a backhanded way to get information about my past out of me?" Xhareen poked her Twi'lek companion on the upper arm, to reassure her she was joking. Although whether it was coincidence or Vette had uncovered something substantial, Xhareen wasn't sure. Vette had proven herself wily and invaluable since leaving Korriban; only the Maker knew what she'd gotten up to on her off hours or during the flight here from Dromund Kaas.

"That would be an awkward 'No,' my Sithy friend. I was going for 'this place stinks the same as the port there.' "

Xhareen knew that smell, although for her, for several years that smell meant home. She'd flown out of the Prime city port many times; maybe it was just excitement and relief that had colored her senses with the unmistakable mix of fuel and spice and sex and dozens of alien food shops.

This place just smelled of death, fuel and bombs. But she had work to do, and masters to please.

And a lieutenant to meet.

"The sooner we get to our contact's office, the sooner you can escape the smells, Vette." Xhareen had checked her data pad a half dozen times since landing and still it said the same thing: Lt. Malavai Quinn, Logistics, Materiel and Resource Planning coordinator, Sobrik City. Building Aurek 2, Sector 7.

Seemed like an important job for a lowly lieutenant, even one with Baras's backing. There were two majors in charge of logistics just at Kaas City spaceport alone. Not that this rock compared to the capital world, but still. This one probably had good connections. _Someone's golden boy_ , she thought. _Probably let everyone else do the work for him_ .

Xhareen decided she already didn't like him.

She looked over at Vette, whose left lekku began to twitch. "I know something," she half said, half sang.

Xhareen raised her eyebrows above the plasteel visor that covered the upper part of her eyeless face.

"Yeah, while you were pigging out, I was checking out this contact of ours on the holonet."

Vette wasn't going to just give up information – at least that's how things had been between them so far. "OK, what do I have to do to get the information from you?"

"Just ask?"

"Really, that would work?" Xhareen was truly shocked.

"Yeah, well in this case, it's something so potentially juicy, I have to share it with you. Apparently, he pissed off some moff, who is not at all well-liked, who busted him and court-martialed him.

Don't know why. Something to do with a big space battle. That's all I could find, and it was on some pretty shady channels. You know, hackers who like to court death by borrowing access to military secrets and all."

Xhareen found Vette's story hard to believe. Maybe that's why she was so willing to share. She'd made the whole thing up out of boredom. Why would Baras rely on someone with a notorious past as a troublemaker? He preferred secrecy, especially in his non-Sith contacts. Hells, that's why Xhareen was here, to track down one of Baras' spies buried so deeply in the Republic army, Baras could not locate him from the Citadel.

Then again, this Lieutenant Quinn could be just some functionary, and not really an "agent" of her master. Baras had an overbearing sense of his own importance. He probably thought the luggage porter at the space dock was his own personal agent, too. Like that unfortunate creature who met them on Dromund Kaas.

 _OK_ , she thought. _Maybe I'll give this Imperial a second chance_.

Lieutenant Quinn tossed the holocomm on his desk in disgust. _Jillins again_. He had to deal with the matter before Darth Baras's apprentice showed up. He needed to make a good impression, because he'd need Baras's approval if his final shot at getting off Balmorra and out of exile were to happen. Didn't do him much good if he had to explain why he allowed cowards in his command, even if that coward was his second cousin once removed.

 _My command_ , Quinn thought, picking up the holocomm and slamming it down on the desk again. Fifteen years of his life given to the military, saved tens of thousands of lives at Druckenwell, kept this cesspit of an operation out of resistance hands for 10 grueling years, and all he had to show for it was a single bar on his collar. All his planning, all his analyses, everything he could possibly contribute for the Empire, all of it wasted. Every request for transfer denied. Every application for promotion binned.

Days like this, he thought his mother perfectly justified in disowning him after his court martial. He never should have taken the deal. He thought his silence would buy him good will, instead, it made him look guilty. Incompetent and guilty, even worse. He thought he'd spend a few months, a year at most, at some remote outpost like Hoth, then be welcomed back. Instead, he'd been dumped into a black hole prison site and told he was going to be executed. Darth Baras had genuinely saved his life.

But for this?

He slammed his fist on the desk, grateful for the privacy of his spacious suite that served as private office and his quarters. He didn't like such displays of emotion, especially from himself, but Jillins was gaining a reputation as "the cock-up corporal," and it had been Quinn who recommended his first promotion. Quinn who had personally trained him in firearms competency.

And now, with the lives of his squad mates on the line, Jillins had been unable to pull the trigger on a terrorist resistance fighter running toward them, as it turned out, with a live grenade. As always, it had been Sgt. Drix'el who covered for him, took the man down with a single shot.

A light on the desk flashed, summoning him to the command floor. He could have dealt with Jillins in private, but decided against it. The rest of the men needed to see he held no favorites.

Jillins was already waiting, shaking and nearly sobbing. "Report, Corporal. Tell me why we are having this conversation again." Quinn tried to keep his voice steady, but that wasn't likely to happen.

"I … I couldn't pull the trigger, sir."

"Why not, soldier? Did you forget how? Did you forget all the hours I spent tutoring you on how to use your weapon?"

"No, sir, not at all. It's different when you're pointing at a simulator, or an animal carcass. I can't …"

"You can't shoot an enemy. One who was coming to wipe you and your entire squad from the galaxy."

Jillins looked down at his boots.

"It's your job, Jillins. To shoot the enemies of the Empire. To keep your comrades safe, like you'd keep your family safe.

"Sir, I apologize, sir. It was the best I could do."

Quinn grabbed him by the collar and got right up into his face. Politeness, propriety, all that was garbage if you couldn't do your job. He knew his anger was getting the better of him but for this moment, it was called for.

"If that's your best, you're useless to me. I can shoot you dead with a clear conscience. Is that what you want?"

"N-no, sir."

He pushed the boy away. He wanted to put him in the brig but he needed every hand he had. For now, he'd let him stew for a few hours, then send orders for three weeks of double cleaning duty shifts. That's what amounted to punishment for cowardice nowadays, whereas bravery and fast thinking that saved the Fleet had gotten him three months in solitary. He wasn't sure who he was more disgusted with, Jillins, or his younger self.

"Then focus, Jillins. Dismissed."

Just then, the room seemed to brighten into a lighter shade of gray and the temperature rose a dozen degrees. Quinn saw he was being stared at, by a brown-skinned humanoid woman wearing a cybernetic visor, and a blue-skinned Twi'lek not wearing a collar. _Stars, she probably talked as much as Drix'el did._ He was a highly competent officer, and as a Twi'lek, able to blend in with the locals when necessary, but his incessant need to "keep you company, loo" drove Quinn mad sometimes.

But this Twi'lek was quiet and walked a circumspect distance behind the Sith, who held her head high as she strode across the situation room. A young woman, yet she radiated power. Quinn prided himself on his ability to read people, even if he felt awkward moving on from that point.

He couldn't quite bring himself to make the connection that this was, indeed, Darth Baras's apprentice. Baras generally favored male apprentices, and the ones he'd sent here previously had all been rather blunt and brutish.

But enough dawdling. Quinn recovered quickly. There was no doubt this was a special person, of that he was convinced. But she was Baras's person. His apprentice. She was here because she had a job to do.

 _As do I_ , Quinn thought. No matter what his intentions were for getting off this planet, he would do his job. _Service is its own reward._

He bowed as she walked up to him.

"I apologize for the delay, my lord. Lt. Malavai Quinn. I'm to be your liaison here on Balmorra."


	3. Getting to Safety

**On board the Class A starship _Yaroe Star_**

Xhareen dragged Quinn's body out of the transponder bay, calling on whatever reserve of the Force she had left to pull him as quickly as she could. The droids Quinn had set to attack her were going to explode. She had seen the counter on a detonite pack after she cut through one of them with her lightsaber. She knew it would be seconds before the explosion vented the compartment into space.

She heard the bay doors swoosh closed, and saw a small contingent of soldiers who looked barely old enough to handle a weapon running toward her. She dropped Quinn as gently as she could onto the deck, took a deep breath, and seized the situation as best she could.

"Stop where you are. Get a grav bed and get this man to a kolto tank immediately, then take me to your captain."

The soldiers looked relieved not to be shredded into ribbons, and a female corporal got on her comm and called to the medical staff, just before a muffled explosion, followed by a loud alarm, nearly knocked them all down.

Quinn began to moan at her feet, his eyes fluttering but not really opening. Xhareen knelt down next to him.

"My lord?" he whispered, more of a wheeze.

"Shush, Quinn. You're wounded," she said quietly, as she heard many sets of feet start scurrying through the corridors. "The droids attacked us. Baras set us up. You tried to defend me, but you were wounded. Do you understand?"

"No, not what happen- ..."

"Quinn," she said more sternly. "That is precisely what happened and that is the story you will tell. Are we clear?"

"It's a lie, my love. All a lie," he said, but then he fell unconscious and did not wake up.

 **on the bridge a few minutes later**

"Calling Cipher Twenty Three. Security code 8721 mark 3. This is a medical distress call from the Yaroe Star. "

Xhareen pounded the recall key and sent the message again. And again. She had to be out there, her old friend. She knew the channel was dated, now that Imperial Intelligence had been disbanded, but she doubted the Empire had had time to retrofit the receivers on all the ships formerly under Intelligence service control.

It had taken her precious hours to get here after promising the Yaroe Star's captain any future favor he wanted. Precious hours that Quinn needed medical help. These were the most secure channels, those accessible only by Sith and only to Intelligence properties. It had to work, it just had to. She would find Zavaa, or whatever her name might be now.

There had been only one aging kolto tank on board the Class A starship they invaded to find the nonexistent transponder. She had commandeered it, and hyperspace transport, from the captain, who was only too eager to avoid the wrath of a Sith – and to incur a favor to call in at some future point. Fortunately, the hull breach was not so serious as to cripple the ship. Xhareen promised some credits from her own accounts to compensate the captain further.

Because what did they matter now?

The love of her life, a man she had just tried to kill for betraying her, floated inside an inferior cylinder of fluid, his life ebbing and flowing with every bobble up and down the tank. She had ordered him to stay alive and maybe, just maybe, that's what kept the readings in the green.

Now that they had reached Corellian space and were closing in on the Imperial fleet, she had to make a painful decision. Should she head for the fleet, and turn him over to military doctors, who might question her cover story? But who might also mean the difference between life and death for her beloved, traitorous captain.

Or should she continue to search for her friend, and the brilliant if sketchy doctor who could save Quinn and not ask too many questions?

"This is the Phantom, an independent Imperial vessel attached to Military Command on Corellia. Please identify yourself." A computerized voice, female, unnervingly soft and yet metallic.

"Did you say Corellia?" Xhareen could hardly believe her ears. A stroke of luck at last. "This is Lord Xhareen, The Emperor's Wrath, Sith military advisor. I need to speak to your captain immediately."

"Yes. Complying," came the reply, and then an interminable wait.

"This is … Xhareen! It's you! Or must I call you Lord Xhareen?" The green eyes, the tattooed mask, the high and tight hair. Indeed, a good sign.

"My old friend, I cannot go into pleasantries right now. The captain of my ship has been gravely injured, and I traced a Doctor Lokin to your crew. Please, I am desperate for his assistance."

"Right away, let me page him."

The holo went to static momentarily, then her friend returned, accompanied by an older man, balding and white haired but whose body and frame looked like they belonged to an agent 30 years younger at least. The infamous researcher on alien biology, Eckard Lokin.

"Hello, my lord, the Agent here says you have a medical emergency. How may I assist?"

"Doctor, my captain was wounded in a fight. His chest and larynx were crushed, and he probably has a concussion. His extremities are not responding to stimulation. He's been in a kolto tank for nearly 20 hours. His readings are fluctuating. Please, he must be saved."

Funny how clinical it sounded. All those wounds, she had inflicted. All those wounds she would blame on another. But that reckoning could come later. Doctor Lokin was known for his discretion; his medical curiosity and love of credits more than covering his need to judge how the wounded came to be that way.

Xhareen had done her homework. Eckard Lokin had been, in some way, responsible for developing her cybernetic visor and she'd been tracking him down since right after Baras granted her the _Covenant_ and all its resources. None of that mattered now; nothing mattered except saving Quinn.

"Where are you now? Can you get to us within two hours?"

"Yes, fortunately we just arrived at Corellia and your factotum droid said you were attached to the Corellian front."

She could hear her friend snort with laughter. She must remember to ask and soon what her cover name was. "Did I say something funny?" She tried not to sound cross.

"No, my lord," the doctor replied. "Communications systems are being handled by an advanced cybernetic life form who might resent the demotion. But she will send you our coordinates. I will meet you in the airlock. Do you have a grav unit to handle the tank?"

"Yes, we do. I'll meet you there." She would tell Zavaa the truth, but the crew must only ever know the cover story, that the droids Quinn had programmed to kill her had been turned on the both of them by their former master, the treasonous Darth Baras. That story would just have to hold. No one else on the crew must know. Lt. Pierce would kill him, Broonmark would kill him, even Vette might turn on him and kill him in his sleep. Jaesa would surely never forgive him or obey an order from him again. No, her crew were the enemy right now, another painful burden for her to bear.

It seemed like hours, but within 20 minutes, the ships had docked and Xhareen and a young corporal were accompanying the grav-assisted kolto tank onto the larger vessel. The doctor, more animated than he had seem via holo, led them to a small but surprisingly well-apportioned medical bay, where they were joined by a tall, strikingly handsome human man. He immediately began helping the doctor flush the tank and get Quinn's body out onto the exam table.

This man. He had black voids for eyes, and radiated an energy Xhareen could not identify.

She must have been staring at him, because he suddenly turned and stared into her like he was facing a yawning cavern. She nodded, then backed out the door, right into her old friend.

"Zavaa," she whispered, turning toward the welcome face. "Is it safe to call you that here?"

Her friend grabbed her and held her tight. "Yes, we're safe on the ship but to be honest, I'm past caring who knows my name most days," she whispered back. They both pulled away, and Zavaa, several inches taller than the Miralukan, held her friend by the shoulders, as if to size her up.

"I'd love to say you look well, but you look like you've been to visit a sarlaac and back. For the full thousand years."

"It's a long story. We were attacked …" Xhareen looked around, seeing no one within earshot, so she continued, "… by Darth Baras, my former master. And the truth is, I've never been worse. If there's somewhere private we can go, I will tell you the whole sad tale."

"My quarters. The doctor and Vector are all your captain needs at the moment, and you look like you could use a drink."

The two women walked through a large commons area, with a full holo terminal in its center, and into a side hallway with crew quarters. This "captain's billet" was smaller than she'd expected on such a luxurious ship, but comfortably appointed. And definitely shared with a man.

"Wait, you said Vector … Vector Hyllus, the changeling or whatever?"

Zavaa nodded and smiled, blushing even. Xhareen could not help smiling, too, even though Zavaa's pale skin blushed just like Quinn's had so many times. "I take it he's more than just a crew member."

"Like your captain?" Zavaa gave her friend a poke in the shoulder.

"I hope not, for your sake." Xhareen took a loud, rasping breath and slid awkwardly down into the cushioned bench along the wall as if her legs had been kicked out from under her.

"Oh my stars, what's wrong?" Zavaa leaned in and put her arms around Xhareen's shoulders. The two had been like sisters at the orphanage on Dromund Kaas – Zavaa four years her senior.

Xhareen wished she could cry. She had certainly earned it. Instead of forming tears, though, she took a deep breath, and tried not to sob. She was mostly successful.

"Is this room secure? We are both so accustomed to lies, but for now, I must resort to the whole truth."

"It is, so please, don't hold back."

And out it came. How she had worked with the dashing, world-weary lieutenant on Balmorra, as impressed with his cunning and skill set as she was with his cheekbones and the cut of his impeccable uniform. How sad and disappointed she was to leave without getting to know him better, even if briefly and just carnally. How surprised and happy she was that he had volunteered to serve on her ship, complete with a promotion and a promise of greater glory to come.

How he had reluctantly, or so it seemed, succumbed to her relentless attempts to seduce him. And how she had fallen madly, inextricably, in love.

"I'm sensing there's much more to this story than two lovers attacked by a vengeful and ambitious darth, am I right?"

"Darth Baras was my master at the academy, at the end at least. I hated him, of course, that's what any young Sith apprentice is supposed to do. But he seemed to trust me implicitly, giving me broad authority to travel the galaxy in order to monitor and protect his network of spies. And he had personally taken Quinn under his wing after Quinn was unjustly court-martialed by an insane moff."

"Ah, yes, Moff Broysc. The troops here cheered to learn of his long-awaited demise. But your Captain had an unassailable alibi for that, didn't he?"

"Perfect for putting a blaster round in his brain – a measure of my love for him, because I wanted to cut the mean old fool down myself, Zavaa. He was a danger and an embarrassment to the Empire. He ruined the career of a far superior leader, forcing Quinn to grab scraps of attention from miserable old Baras's table of lies."

Zavaa nodded, the wise and wily agent figuring the rest out for herself. "So he followed orders and led you into a trap. And yet, you didn't kill him."

"I know how persuasive Darth Baras can be. And somehow, Quinn's infallible trap failed to kill me, as though maybe he subconsciously wanted it to appear like he had tried and failed. I don't know. That's probably wishful thinking on my part. Maybe I was so angry, I could have taken on the entire Republic and won.

"But he was immediately contrite, and still I attacked him. I threw him across the bay, and when he fell, I picked him up and choked him. I just could not kill him. I was immediately mad at myself for letting my anger get so out of control. I know, I know … that sounds so 'un-Sithy.' But I've always prided myself on bottling up my rage and using it as well and as carefully as any weapon should be used.

"So while the clueless crew on board that cruiser got him into a kolto tank, I told them he was caught in a crossfire between myself and two droids Baras had programmed using my training files. I had the ship's memory wiped clean – easy enough, since the captain was more than eager to earn a favor from a Sith. I accessed my own ship's files and made it look like Baras had lured us away from Voss, thinking there was a military embargo of Corellia and martial law that we could only circumvent if, as Quinn had said, we sneak on to this ship and steal a military fleet transponder."

Xhareen fell silent for a moment. A stiff Corellian ale appeared in front of her, courtesy of a ship's droid that made poor Toovee look like a relic. She took a long drink and continued.

"The funny thing, or the sad thing perhaps, is that I understand why Quinn betrayed me. He was played. Forced to do it, regardless what he thought he'd get out of it. I should forgive him, even though he cared more about saving his career than me. Or maybe he just thought Baras would win no matter what. Maybe both."

"You think he played you, though? Do you really think he wanted you dead?"

Xhareen stared into her glass. "I don't know if it's love or pride making me say no. I don't know what the truth is. He started giving this speech, and all I could say is 'I thought our love was real' and I'm sure I must have sounded like a jilted teenager. And he gave me this look of shock and disgust. Like suddenly I was not longer this Sith goddess, perfect and infallible, but some frail, mortal being. That somehow, I had been the one to deceive him."

"There has to be more to the story, Xhareen. You'll just have to ask him when he wakes up."

Just then, the entry bell rang. "Someone wants in. I suppose secret time is over, for now at least."

Zavaa leaned over and gave her another hug. "To be continued, for certain."

It was Vector Hyllus, the diplomat who, it was said, was willingly turned into half-hive-minded insect in order to secure a treaty with the Empire. Except for the black pools he had for eyes, he looked fully human, if obviously strong enough to take down a wampa single handed.

"Vector, I want you to meet Lord Xhareen, well, that's her official name, but for a few moments here, she is my old friend and partner in crime from Dromund Kaas."

Vector bowed slightly and reached out his hand. Without a thought, Xhareen placed her hand in his. He kissed it. "We are charmed to meet you, my lord. We have never met a Miralukan in person before. Your electric aura thrums a song of war, yet it is a pleasant, rhythmic tune that smells of strength and is reassuring to the hive."

Xhareen kept her hand in his. Zavaa seemed not to mind his method of diplomacy. Nor did Xhareen mind how soft and yet strong his hands were. Thicker and stronger than Quinn's, than Malavai's, hands. Oddly enough, the thought crossed her mind that it was Vector who looked like a warrior and Quinn like a diplomat. "I don't know what to say except I am pleased to meet you … I believe your official title is Emissary Hyllus?"

"Yes, that is one way we are known. We would prefer you to simply call us Vector."

"Then officially and simply, well met, Vector." He put his other hand on hers, and briefly closed his eyes. "The Nest is also pleased to greet a Lord of the Sith and a friend of our mate. We would love to sit and talk, but we are here to deliver word from Doctor Lokin that your captain is stable and it appears he will recover."

Xhareen felt the room swirl around her and she collapsed back on the bench. "Are you OK, Xhareen?" Vector made sure she was seated upright and steady before he let her hands go. Zavaa rushed over and sat down next to her.

"I think she needs to sleep, Vector. She was also wounded in the fighting and Sith healing only goes so far." She was led to the "guest quarters," a spare, metal room with two bunks fastened to the wall and a table and a refresher in the back. But the mattress on the metal platform was soft, the pillow softer, and soon enough, she was asleep.


	4. She Sings Herself to Sleep

Quinn heard footsteps in the corridor just off the bridge. They were in hyperspace, so it was safe to assume it was just one of the crew. He didn't want to disturb anyone, particularly if the night stalker turned out to be Lord Xhareen, so he whispered to the comm port on the command chair where he sat, "Toovee, heads up text display only, current location of the ship's crew."

Everyone appeared to be in their quarters except for Xhareen. _What in the galaxy was she doing standing in a corridor in the middle of the night?_ He didn't want to intrude, or to startle her, but he really wanted to know. _Of course, it's my duty to know_ , he told himself.

As a security precaution only, naturally, he'd had the exterior corridors wired, along with command overrides in everyone's quarters, including hers. There'd be a log if he tried to listen in, even in a hallway, even in the middle of the night. But no one would check on a routine sweep of the non-private areas of the ship. Quinn would simply have to enter in his log that he'd been testing the systems – and now he'd have to do this routinely, though he decided that wasn't such a bad idea.

He smiled. _Service really was its own reward._

He punched a few buttons and he could hear Xhareen, singing softly. It was not any tune he recognized; the tonal shifts seemed far too complicated for most of the holo-hits that Xhareen seemed fond of singing publicly. He couldn't imagine himself trying to sing notes like that. Even that song that she'd sung in the open mike cantina on Nar Shaddaa to heartfelt applause had been a relatively standard, even mawkish, ballad. He'd never told her that he followed her there, that he'd spied on her just as he was doing right now.

He'd caught her humming in the galley a few days later, and encouraged her to perform for the crew as part of "nightly sharing" after the evening meal. She'd suggested it as a way for the crew to get to know one another and to break up the boredom of hyperspace. She offered a more subdued version of the same song she'd performed in the cantina. It lacked the emotional rawness he'd heard in her voice that night, but it captured all the warmth and complexity that Miraluka were known for, and he was pleased that everyone showed her how much they enjoyed it.

Quinn could hear the lyrics she was singing now, and they weren't any language he was familiar with. He'd had a thought at one point on Balmorra to begin to listen to some Miralukan language instructional holos, curious about how it sounded. But these past weeks, after coming on board, training the crew and performing their mission on Nar Shaddaa, he hadn't found the time.

The strangeness of the words, and their sounds, was only part of the beauty of hearing her sing. Though she wasn't belting out notes like she was trying to subdue an opponent in battle, Quinn was taken by how she seemed to imbue her breathy whispers with so much sentiment.

A sudden thud, and Quinn was through the door before he even realized he was out of his chair.

"My lord! I heard a noise and came to check …"

"It's all right, Quinn." He looked down to see she'd dropped a mug. "I couldn't sleep, and came here to watch the stars and drink one of Toovee's tisanes."

"I heard singing," he said, bending to pick up the cup before he even realized he'd just busted himself.

She smiled. "That was a lullaby my mother used to sing to me. I could never get to sleep even as a child. She had the most beautiful voice, Quinn. That's what I remember most clearly about her."

She reached her hand out to him, and just when he thought she meant to hold his hand, he realized she was beckoning for him to give the cup back to her. He handed it over and began to stammer, "I-I didn't mean to eavesdrop, my lord. I was setting up a routine security scan …"

"Again, Quinn, it's all right. I should have known better than to try to skulk about on a ship run by you. Besides, the tisane has finally kicked in, which is probably why I dropped the mug."

She stopped to yawn, then turned away. "I'll be heading back to my quarters now, Captain. You can resume your scan." The way she flounced her arm as she said the word "scan" confirmed she knew it was as much scam as scan, but she didn't seem bothered at all.

"My lord, would you sing that song again sometime, during share time?" It was the best deflection he could think of.

"I will sing it again, Captain, but not for share time. I think perhaps I will keep this just between us. Command decision and all. Good night, Quinn."

"Good night, my lord," he said to her retreating silhouette. He watched until she disappeared around a corner, and he heard the swooshing sound of her quarter's doors, opening and closing again.

His ears began to ring in the silence, as though she had taken even the ship's ambient sounds with her. Or perhaps it was the third cup of caff he'd had after dinner.

Either way, he returned to the bridge and immediately ordered the computer to play back 30-second snippets of all recorded Miralukan lullabies. He wouldn't remember what he'd heard for long. And he wanted to remember this, always.


End file.
